


A Piece of the Pie

by myrtlebroadbelt



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Pie, Young Bilbo Baggins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:59:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6066397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrtlebroadbelt/pseuds/myrtlebroadbelt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bagginses share something sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Piece of the Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr in response to the prompt "sharing a dessert," sent by [anunexpectedjourney](http://anunexpectedjourney.tumblr.com).

Bungo takes care not to tilt the mattress too heavily as he swings his legs out from under the quilt. 

Bilbo had been slow to close his eyes at story time tonight, and Belladonna had staggered into the bedroom looking positively exhausted once she’d finally gotten him to sleep. Bungo dares not wake her, but his stomach has been keeping him up for nearly half an hour now. All he can think of is the slice of bilberry pie currently sitting uneaten on the kitchen table. 

They had welcomed a throng of Belladonna’s relatives for supper, and one of them had brought the pie to share after the meal—in addition to various other sweets from various other members of the party. Between engaging his in-laws in conversation and keeping one eye on the children as they played worryingly close to the pottery cabinet, Bungo hadn’t a chance to enjoy more than a forkful. But what a memorable forkful it was!

He had initially resisted temptation and resolved to save the piece that still remained until tomorrow, placing a cloth over the dish and setting about cleaning up. But it had followed him all the way to bed, and he finally decided that no one would even notice its absence in the morning, so what would be the harm of a midnight nibble?

Bungo hasn’t even taken one step away from the bed when he hears Belladonna’s voice behind him, spoken half into the pillow: “Don’t eat that pie without me.”

He stops in his tracks. “I wasn’t…”

“Yes, you were,” she says, in a tone that suggests there will be no argument. “I’m getting up,” she adds, and he hears the bedding rustle. Seconds later, she has lit the candle beside the bed and is standing up with it.

“There’s no need,” Bungo objects. “We’ll eat it tomorrow.” It will be difficult to wait, he thinks, but he sees it as the husbandly thing to do.

“Too late,” she says, cutting herself off with a yawn as she crosses to the door. “I’m up. Let’s go.”

So they creep quietly into the kitchen, where they sit across from each other in their nightclothes, their forks chasing slippery berries around the pie dish and scooping up flaky, buttery bits of crust.

“This is delicious. We must give our compliments to…” Bungo trails off, licking a crumb from his top lip and struggling to recall who it was who brought the pie. 

He comes up short and hopes that Belladonna will assist him, but she simply stares, eyebrows raised expectantly, and chews.

“Oh, very well,” he grumbles. “I can’t remember. You have too many relatives.”

Belladonna laughs, her fork crossing tines with his as the slice dwindles. “Well, if you ever want to eat another one of these pies, you had best remember.”

Bungo huffs, and is about to offer a retort, when a small voice appears in the doorway. “What are you doing?” it asks, and they turn to discover Bilbo rubbing his eyes and approaching the table. 

He stretches to the tips of his toes to peek over, round nose just barely breaking the surface, both hands gripping the edge. His parents remain silent, forks hovering in midair, morsels sitting unchewed on their tongues.

“Is that pie?” Bilbo wonders, and he’s still too sleepy to sound offended that he wasn’t offered any. 

That doesn’t dissuade Belladonna. “It was your father’s idea,” she blurts, and Bungo gapes at her. “Absolutely shameful, I said. But he insisted.”

Bilbo is thankfully sharp enough, even at such a tender age, to realize when his mother is teasing his father, and he giggles as Belladonna grabs him beneath his arms and hefts him onto her lap.

“To think! Eating a bilberry pie without our bilberry!” she tsks, lifting her fork to Bilbo’s smiling mouth and catching a stray glob of filling on her index finger before promptly licking it off.

Bungo shakes his head fondly and stands to retrieve the milk.


End file.
